


Clint's Midnight Snack Run

by clintbartonismyaesthetic



Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Deaf Clint Barton, clint just really wants pizza rolls, stupid tracksuit draculas, why did tony have to touch his stuff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-31
Updated: 2018-11-06
Packaged: 2018-12-22 07:36:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11962740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clintbartonismyaesthetic/pseuds/clintbartonismyaesthetic
Summary: Clint really wants pizza rolls. At 2am. And there aren't any in the tower. Midnight snack run ensues, but when Clint doesn't return, it's up to the team to find him again.





	1. Prologue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys, so this is my first fic. Please bear with me, I have a lot of ideas and I'm not exactly sure how to get them all out on paper (technically computer, I guess). Constructive criticism appreciated; please keep hate comments to yourself. Disclaimer: I don't own Marvel or any of the characters associated

Nothing.

There was absolutely nothing.

In the entire Avengers Tower, there wasn't a single thing to eat.

Clint was pissed. First he slept through dinner, and now he couldn't even find a decent snack. This was Natasha's fault. If she hadn't made him take his meds, he wouldn't have fallen asleep and missed dinner, and he wouldn't be ransacking the kitchen at 2am.

God, he hated being shot. He was like a magnet for bullets. This time he was hit in the shoulder, so he was forced to wear an immobilizing sling. He was also prescribed meds, but they made him loopy, so he avoided them as usual. At least until Natasha threatened to hide all of his trick arrows unless he took them (he still hadn't found his boomerang arrows from last time). Now he was hungry, there were no snacks, and he was feeling loopy again.

_Thor's poptarts, Bruce's tea, Nat's licorice (ew), Steve's granola... How can we not even have twinkies?!_

The pantry was a bust, so Clint tried the freezer. He knew he at last had some pizza rolls left, maybe some ice cream. However, when he opened the door, all he found was an empty pizza roll bag with an IOU taped to it. He was gonna kill Stark. Those were his damn pizza rolls. His stomach growled, reminding him of the problem at hand.

"Guess I'm making a midnight snack run."

He ran back to his room and threw on a pair of pants before making his way down to the garage. He was about to grab a set of keys when Jarvis stopped him.

"Agent Barton, it is unwise to drive in your condition. Your medication warns against the use of heavy machinery while it is in effect. Shall I call Mr. Hogan to give you a ride?"

"Nah, that's okay. I'll just walk". He could use the fresh air and exercise anyway.

* * *

The trip to the store was uneventful and Clint enjoyed the city's quiet ambiance. When he entered the automatic doors, he was greeted by bright fluorescent lighting and the faint buzz of Muzak through the speakers. Beginning to feel the effects of his meds again, he hurried off to the freezer section.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So what did you guys think? I'm going to try to update a much as possible, but I'm still in school and I'm trying to work on another fic at the same time. Until next time!


	2. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, okay. I know. I suck. But, to be fair, I've been really busy. Also, I lost my book that had everything I had written. But I finally found it this morning, so Merry Late Christmas? Anyway, please enjoy and remember: constructive criticism is appreciated, but keep your hate comments to yourself.

“Where’s Clint?”

 

Coulson glanced around the table. Their resident archer had yet to appear for breakfast. This was especially odd since he was usually the one cooking it.

 

“He’s probably still sleeping,” Natasha offered. “I made him take his meds last night”

 

“If I may interrupt,” Jarvis interjected, “Agent Barton left the tower at 2am this morning and has yet to return”.

 

“Do you know where he went?” Steve joined the conversation.

 

“He didn’t say. But I can pull up the security feed from the kitchen last night. He spent a considerable amount of time in there”.

 

“Throw it on my tablet,” Tony said as he pulled out one of the many devices he had stashed around the tower.

 

The Avengers sans Thor crowded around the tablet and watched Clint digging through the cabinet with one arm strapped to his chest. When he finally pushed away with nothing for his efforts, he made a beeline to the fridge. They all glanced at Tony when Clint pulled an empty bag from the freezer with a note on it.

 

“It’s not my fault that they’re delicious,” he defended. “If he doesn’t want people to steal his pizza rolls, he should secure them better”.

 

“He probably thought his death threats were enough. You saw what happened when Thor ate the last piece of pizza,” Natasha reminded.

 

They all shuddered. No one dared to touch the last piece again after that incident.

 

“Death threats are overrated. Like they say, ‘Sticks and stones may break my bones but words’...well, I don’t really listen to those for too long because usually the person saying them is an idiot”.

 

Natasha’s eyes narrowed and she opened her mouth to no doubt offer a few threats of her own, when Coulson stepped between them.

 

“Okay,  _ children _ , this isn’t helping. We still don’t know where Clint is and we all know that an injured Clint and the public don’t mix. Is there any way to track him?”.

 

“I can try to track his cell phone, but he has a bad habit of forgetting to ever take it with him.” Tony was already typing away on the tablet.

 

Sure enough, the tracker in his phone showed it to be in his room. Just as the heroes began to argue about what to do next, Jarvis alerted them to the presence of someone in the front of the tower.

 

“Sir, there is a Kate Bishop requesting permission to come up to speak with you. Shall I send the elevator for her?”.

 

Before Tony could respond, Natasha interrupted, “Send her up, please Jarvis”.

 

Everyone, except Coulson, gave her an incredulous look. They all knew the policy about strangers in the tower. She merely glared back, daring them to challenge her. They averted their eyes, choosing to instead watch the elevator.

 

When it finally dinged, signaling the arrival of their unexpected guest, they all took an expectant step forwards. The doors opened to reveal a young woman with dark hair wearing casual clothes and purple aviators. There was the dark shadow of a bruise forming on her cheekbone and small cuts littered her arms. A dog bounded forward out of the car, much to Tony’s horror.

 

“Lucky! Get back here!”. The woman stepped out of the elevator, immediately bending down to call the dog back to her. She hooked a leash onto his collar and slowly stood back up.

 

“Kate, how are you?”, Coulson greeted warmly.

 

“Oh you know, same old same old. Still cleaning up Clint’s messes”. She appeared confused at the shocked expressions that now greeted her.

 

“Ignore them,” Natasha stepped forward to hug her. “Have you seen Clint this morning? He left the tower at about 2 am and hasn’t returned”.

 

“That’s actually why I came here. I went by his apartment this morning to take care of Lucky and the door was standing open. I went in and it had been completely ransacked”.

 

“Clint has an apartment?”, Tony tried to interrupt. One glare from Natasha and he shut up. Fast.

 

“Was there anything to suggest who did it?”, Coulson asked, concern filling his gaze.

 

“No suggestion needed. The perpetrators were still there. It was a couple of Ivan’s goons. They were just finishing writing something on the walls when I got there. I was caught off guard, so they got away, but not before I got a few hits in”, she smirked.

 

Coulson’s eyes darkened. “What did they write?”.

 

The smirk fell away from Kate’s face. “It said ‘You mess up bad, bro. Is on now, bro’”.

 

The look that Natasha and Coulson shared said it all:  _ Shit _ .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What'd you think? Please leave a review, it'd be much appreciated! I'm going to try to update maybe biweekly? But don't hold me to it. Until next time!


	3. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, so it's been a long time. I realize that I don't really have many readers, but to those of you that may have been waiting for an update, I apologize for such a long wait between chapters. I hit a really big writer's block, and then I graduated, traveled out of the country for the first time, started college, etc., etc. But now I'm back and this story is taking a seemly different turn than I expected, so maybe I'll have a better time trying to update. If you like the story, please review! It would mean a lot and would probably inspire me as to where to take this story next. Just remember: constructive criticism is appreciated, but keep your hate comments to yourself.

“Clint has an apartment?”

 

Five incredulous sets of eyes landed on Tony.

 

“Seriously? You’re still stuck on the fact that Clint has an apartment?”, Steve admonished.

 

“What? I can’t be curious? I thought he lived in his apartment here in the tower.”

 

“Have you ever considered,” Kate interjected, “that he owned the apartment before the Avengers existed?”

 

Tony’s eyes narrowed and he opened his mouth to respond, but Natasha cut him off.

 

“That’s beside the point. Clint is missing and now we know that someone is after him. We need to start looking for where he may have disappeared to before this gets any worse. Jarvis, can you check city security cameras to see if Clint shows up anywhere?”

 

“Of course, Ms. Romanoff.”

 

“Okay, while Jarvis checks on that, let’s come up with a list of places Clint may have gone last night. Obviously he was looking for something to eat, so we’ll start there,” Coulson said, already stepping into his role as their handler.

 

There was a moment of silence as the team and Kate deliberated which restaurants and stores would have been open and close enough for an injured Hawkeye to walk to.

 

“There’s that pizza joint that’s just a couple blocks down?” Bruce said uncertainly.

 

“No, he hates that place,” Kate responded. “He says that the sauce and cheese ratio is totally wrong. Maybe he just decided to go to the store.”

 

“That would make sense, especially since  _ someone _ took the rest of his pizza rolls,” said Natasha, narrowing her eyes at Tony.

 

“You took his pizza rolls?” Kate’s eyes grew round as she spun to face the self-proclaimed genius, billionaire, playboy philanthropist. “You know he’s gonna kill you in your sleep, right?”

 

“Who are you again?” Tony asked with a roll of his eyes. “And why did you bring that... _ thing _ ...up to my perfectly clean tower?”

 

“He’s not a  _ thing _ . He’s Clint’s dog, and what do you mean ‘who am I’? Didn’t Clint tell you guys about me?” Kate turned to face each Avenger in turn, her heart sinking further with every shake of their heads.

 

“How could he have never said anything about me? I know everything about  _ you _ guys!” Kate couldn’t believe that her best friend, her mentor, had failed to tell his friends, his  _ family _ about her.

 

Phil and Natasha shared a look.

 

“It was to protect you.” Natasha said, stepping forward. “He--”

 

“So, what, are you, like, his girlfriend then?” Tony interrupted.

 

“What?!” Kate spluttered, looking horrified. “Absolutely not! I-- He-- He’s way too old for me!”

 

“Then that does beg the question of the nature of your relationship,” Steve prodded, a skeptical look on his face.

 

Kate looked at Natasha. At her subtle nod she took a deep breath to calm herself.

 

“Clint is my mentor; I’m his apprentice. I’m Hawkeye too.”

  
  


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Clint woke uncharacteristically slowly to the muffled sounds of city traffic. As he tried to determine why everything was so dark and quiet (this was the city after all), he became aware of his unnatural position, seemingly sprawled over something. Many pointy and hard somethings that smelled like…rotting food? He slowly came to the conclusion that his eyes were still closed and, after much more effort than he’d care to admit, he forced them open. He squinted as the spinning lights and colors finally slowed down and morphed into a fuzzy picture of his surroundings. He appeared to be in...a dumpster?...behind a chinese restaurant?

 

_ That explains the smell. Nothing like taking a nap on empty boxes and week-old mushu pork. _

 

After a few more moments of self-determination, Clint forced himself to sit up and get a better look at his surroundings. Upon further investigation, he found that he was missing his immobilization sling, his hearing aides, and, based on the color of the sky, the past 6 hours of his memory.

 

_ Ah, futz. Now what have I gotten myself into? _


End file.
